


Max and Lando

by kakkakerssi



Series: Max and Lando [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Depression, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkakerssi/pseuds/kakkakerssi
Summary: Carlos is sure that Lando is in a violent relationship with Max. But with Max and Lando both denying it and Carlos not having any evidence other that a gut feeling and a hunch, there's not a lot he can do to help. Lando has to want help before he can receive it. But can Carlos help them both before it's too late?
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell, Lando Norris/Max Verstappen
Series: Max and Lando [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575997
Comments: 103
Kudos: 90





	1. "Does Max hit you?"

**Author's Note:**

> I recently wrote a dark one-shot where Lando had been attacked. There were a couple of comments requesting a longer piece, so this is that longer piece. The two works are not related - the events of the other piece do not take place in the same universe as this work.
> 
> I've tried to over-tag this piece rather than under-tag it, just so you know exactly what you're getting into if you do read it. Please be kind to yourself - this will be an uncomfortable read and if you need to leave it and go and look at pictures of kittens instead, please do.
> 
> I cannot guarantee a happy ending.

"Does Max hit you?"

Carlos was breathing hard, gripping Lando's wrist to keep him from running away. The two of them were in Carlos's driver room to get changed after the race. Lando's room had already started being disassembled and packed away.

Lando stared Carlos down, saying nothing. He'd gotten as far as shoving his race suit down to his waist and taking off his fireproof vest; naked from the waist up.

Carlos frowned, frustrated. He let go of Lando's wrist and reached up, gently gripping Lando's chin and turning his head to the side to get a better look at the bruising on his shoulder. Reaching his hand down, he found that his fingers fit the bruises perfectly; it was if he could have put them there himself. The thought of hurting Lando made him feel sick.

"Piss off, Carlos," Lando grumbled, swatting Carlos's hand away.

"Who did this to you?" Carlos asked as Lando grabbed a fresh McLaren polo shirt and pulled it over his head. The collar was high enough to cover the bruises.

When Lando ignored him again, Carlos reached out and grabbed Lando's shoulder. "Lando, please, I need to know."

"No, you _need_ to piss off," Lando snarled, shoving Carlos away. "Stay out of my relationship." He shoved his race suit down to his ankles and stepped out of it, pulling his fireproof underwear off as well. His boxers too were soaked through with sweat so he pulled those off, leaving all his clothes in a heap before wiping himself with a towel and pulling on fresh boxers and a black pair of jeans.

His feelings hurt and his mind still racing with who had hurt Lando and why Lando was defensive about it, Carlos admitted defeat and turned his back to Lando, changing his own clothes. When he turned back, Lando had already left the room.

\---

"Carlos?"

Carlos span around in the airport lounge when he heard the familiar Dutch voice. He smiled when he saw Max, reaching out instinctively for a handshake and shoulder bump. "Hello my friend."

Max smiled back but soon turned serious. "Do you really think I'd hurt Lando?" he asked quietly. "It hurts me that you would think that."

"I don't know what to think," Carlos admitted. "I was changing with Lando earlier and he was covered in bruises. They weren't the kind of bruises you get from racing."

Max frowned more, and then his expression softened. "Maybe you should stop looking at my boyfriend naked," he suggested, teasing. "No, but, seriously, I don't want you to think that I would hurt Lando. I _love_ Lando."

"I'm sorry," Carlos apologised. "I don't know what I was thinking. Of course I know you love him. I'm just worried about him, that's all. He shouldn't be covered in bruises like that."

"No, I agree," Max said, nodding. "I'll talk to him, I'll make sure he's alright. Thank you for telling me about all this. If you see anything else that worries you, will you tell me?"

"Of course." Carlos nodded, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. Carlos knew Max had a temper but he knew he was stupid to think Max would ever hurt Lando. He thought the world of Lando; he was always smiling him and showing him as much affection as he could in public. There had to be another explanation for Lando's bruises and his defensiveness. 

\---

"Lando!" Carlos rushed over to Lando outside the terminal back at Heathrow. Lando was loading his suitcase into the back of a car, ready to be driven home. "Just two seconds!"

"Okay, but make it quick," Lando said, slamming the boot lid of the car and stepping around to the side.

"I just wanted to apologise," Carlos said. He'd been thinking about Lando the entire duration of the flight, having not spoken to him since they'd left the changing room yesterday after the race. "I'm sorry I accused Max."

"Max loves me," Lando said. Sighing, he reached up and shoved his hair out of his face. It was getting longer and curlier and needed a trim. "It sucks that you think he'd hurt me."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Carlos said again. "Really, I am. Max is a good guy. I just worry about you, yeah? I don't want you to be hurting."

"I'm fine," Lando insisted. "You don't need to worry about me. I've got to go." He flashed a smile to Carlos and then opened the car door, climbing into the back seat and pulling the door closed behind him. 

Carlos gripped the handle of his suitcase as he watched Lando's car drive away. Lando and Max had both denied that Max was the cause of the bruises, but Carlos couldn't think of any other explanation. Maybe Lando wanted to be bruised; maybe him and Max were into things in the bedroom that Carlos was not. That would explain why Lando got defensive, and it would explain why Max was concerned that Carlos thought he was hurting Max. 

Satisfied that he'd figured it out, Carlos took his suitcase and went back into the terminal to find his own driver. He needed his bed more than he needed to think about Max tying Lando up whilst they had sex.


	2. "You're just jealous"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max visits Lando at his apartment and they spend the night together. The next day, Max sends Lando an apology and Sacha shares his concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to keep adding warnings throughout this because it's a sensitive subject. Please don't read it if it's going to upset you. <3

Lando plugged his phone into its charging cable and placed it onto his bedside table. He was exhausted from meetings at the factory all day and he'd barely had two minutes to himself at home before Max had arrived from his own factory day in Milton Keynes. Max had been ignoring him since they'd arrived back from the race and Lando was annoyed that after not returning his calls or texts for two days, Max had suddenly turned up at the flat demanding attention.

"Come here," Max said softly, snuggling up against Lando's back, playing the big spoon. "Your hair smells so great. Did you change your shampoo?"

"No."

"Oh. Well it smells nice, I like it," Max said, kissing Lando's neck. "I've missed you these past couple of days."

"I didn't go anywhere," Lando grumbled, tensing when Max's arm moved lower over his torso, his fingers settling on the waistband to his boxers. When Max pulled Lando back towards him in a tighter cuddle, Lando could feel Max hard against the back of his shorts. 

"I'm glad you're here now," Max whispered, nibbling at Lando's ear. "You're so warm. You're like my little hot water bottle."

Lando scoffed, reaching down and placing his hand on top of Max's. He was reminded of a phrase his grandmother used to say to him when he complained about being cold - "Cold hands, warm heart." Maybe it worked in reverse and Lando had a cold heart, which is why he was so warm on the outside.

Lando fidgeted when Max slid his hand inside his shorts and he gripped Max's wrist, gently trying to pull his hand back out. "Not tonight, Max. I'm tired."

"You're _always_ tired," Max whined, ignoring Lando's hint and forcing his hand further inside Lando's shorts. "I hope my hand isn't too cold for you?"

"No, it's not cold," Lando said, screwing his eyes shut and tensing.

"Come on, _relax_." Max pushed himself up onto all fours with his free hand and he rolled Lando onto his back. Leaning over Lando, he kissed him and then shoved Lando's shorts down to his ankles. "See? It's not so bad, is it? You look like you're enjoying this."

"I'm not enjoying this," Lando said quietly, even as his body responded to Max's touch.

"It doesn't look like that to me," Max said, moving to straddle Lando's hips. He leant over Lando and kissed him deeply, guiding Lando's hand down inside the front of his own boxers. 

\---

Lando waited until Max started snoring before climbing out of bed as gently as he could, careful to not make any noise at all. He stepped out of his bedroom, making sure to avoid the spot right outside his bedroom door where the floor creaked and he went down the corridor past his room-mate Sacha's bedroom to the bathroom. The lock was broken and they'd been meaning to fix it for ages but with just the two of them in the house, it was pretty obvious when the bathroom was in use and when it was free.

Lando closed the bathroom door and turned on the light, catching his reflection in the mirror before stepping over to toilet. He pulled some toilet roll off and wiped himself down as best he could, making sure nothing was trapped under his foreskin. Even though it had been nearly an hour, Lando still felt sensitive and he shivered as he dropped the toilet roll into the toilet and flushed it.

Turning to the shower cubicle, Lando reached in and turned the shower on, waiting for a few seconds for it to warm up before stepping inside. He'd always been one for standing facing the shower rather than with his back to it and he pressed his hands against the cold tiles and stared at the floor as hot water blasted onto the back of his neck and down his back and chest. 

Lando almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to scare you," Max said, stepping into the shower cubicle next to Lando.

"I thought you were asleep?" Lando said, turning around under the stream of water to face Max.

"I was. But then I woke up and you weren't there and I felt lonely," Max explained, reaching for Lando's bottle of shampoo. He squeezed some into his hand and put the bottle back on the shelf. "Come here?"

Lando took the smallest step forward and dropped his head and shoulders out from under the shower head, leaving the hot water to hit the small of his back and he rest his head on Max's chest, wrapping his arms around Max and cuddling him whilst Max rubbed lathered the shampoo through his hair and massaged his scalp.

When Max was done, he reached over Lando and rinsed his hands under the shower stream before cupping Lando's jaw in both his hands and lifting his head. "I love you so much. I hope you know that, yeah?"

Lando's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Yeah."

\---

Ding dong.

"I'll go," Sacha volunteered, glancing over at Lando who was engrossed in his racing sim. The two of them had grown more distant over the past few months, ever since Max started coming around, and Sacha didn't like it. He missed laughing with his friend Lando.

Sacha went to the door and accepted the delivery before coming back to the living room. "What did Max do this time?" he asked, holding out a big bouquet of roses for Lando.

Lando pulled his headphones off and climbed out of his racing sim. "Does he need to do something wrong in order to send me flowers?" he asked, taking the bouquet from Sacha and carrying them into the kitchen. He set them down on the draining board whilst he fetched a vase from the cupboard.

"No, I guess not," Sacha said, leaning against the door frame and watching Lando prepare the flowers. "It's just..."

"Just what?" Lando asked, making sure to cut the stems diagonally.

"He shouts at you a lot when he's here."

"So? I shout at him," Lando pointed out, snipping the last of the stems before snipping the edge of the packet of plant feed and pouring it into the vase of water. "Couples argue all the time."

"I miss you, Lando," Sacha said quietly. "I miss the times we used to hang out, just the two of us."

"You're just jealous that I have a boyfriend and you don't."

"I guess it's partly that," Sacha mused, standing up straight. "Is that such a bad thing though? Aren't I allowed to _want_ to spend time with you?"

"Oh, of course," Lando replied, carefully placing the rose stems into the vase one by one. "And you're probably right. I'll try to make more time for you. I do enjoy it as well. I like it when you're around, Sacha."

Sacha stepped forward and squeezed Lando's shoulders, immediately pulling away when Lando flinched. "Don't shut me out, okay? I'm your friend."

Lando lifted the vase and turned to face Sacha. "Aren't these roses beautiful?" he asked. "Orange is the best colour."


	3. "You need to leave him"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sacha calls Carlos to share his concerns and Carlos tries to get through to Lando.

"Hello?" Carlos answered the call from an unknown +44 number and held the phone to his ear. He was in his hotel room in Singapore watching TV and whilst he didn't know who was on the other end of the line, he hoped it would be a fun, exciting phone call to distract him from his boredom.

"Hola, Carlos?" The voice that came back was Spanish.

"Yes, this is Carlos," he answered. "Who's this?"

"It's Sacha... Fenestraz. Lando's room-mate. Are you free to talk? Are you somewhere private?"

"Sure, of course," Carlos replied, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. He sat up straighter in bed. "What's up?"

"I'm really worried about Lando," Sacha explained, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "And I don't know what to do and I know you're his friend and you see him all the time. I'm worried about him and his relationship with Max. It's not a good relationship at all. They shout at each other a lot and I've seen Lando with bruises, and I just... it scares me, you know?"

Carlos stayed silent throughout, listening to Sacha's concerns as best he could. "Thank you for calling me, Sacha. I'll talk to Lando. If they ever have a fight again and it's scaring you, I want you to call the police, okay?"

"I don't want to get anyone in trouble."

"It's not about getting people in trouble, it's about keeping people safe," Carlos replied gently. "You shouldn't have to put yourself in danger to separate them if they're at each other's throats, you know?"

"I guess..."

"You did the right thing by phoning me," Carlos said, climbing off his head and moving to stand by the window, gazing out at the Singapore skyline. "Thank you, Sacha. Lando's very lucky to have someone like you looking out for him."

\---

"Carlos, I told you already, I'm just sick," Lando grumbled, his voice hoarse. He went into his driver's room at the track in Singapore, hoping Carlos would get the hint that he wanted to be left on his own.

"I don't believe you," Carlos said, following Lando into his room before closing the door and locking it. "It's nearly forty degrees outside, my friend. How can you be cold?"

Lando sighed and sat down on his massage table, looking past Carlos at the now-locked door. He felt trapped, and whilst he was fairly sure Carlos wouldn't hurt him, he wasn't 100% convinced. "Will you unlock the door please?"

"Are you scared you can't get out?" Carlos asked, concerned. He stepped over to Lando but took a step backwards when Lando flinched away from him. "Lando, please, I'm not going to hurt you."

"You say that, but..." Lando trailed off, not sure how to finish his sentence. He just wanted to be on his own so he could sleep. His head hurt, his throat hurt, and his muscles were drained from the day's race.

"I want to talk about Max."

"No."

"Come on, Lando," Carlos said, trying his best not to sound frustrated. "I know he hurts you."

"Carlos, I said _no_!" Lando spat, his voice cracking. He jumped off the table and grabbed Carlos's polo shirt, pushing him back until he was up against the wall. "I told you this months ago; you've got to stay out of my relationship. It's none of your fucking business," he sneered.

With Lando's face only millimetres away and the two of them both breathing heavily, Carlos could finally see how bloodshot Lando's eyes were. Carlos took a slow breath to calm himself and he kept his hands at his sides, letting Lando have all the power and control he wanted. "When did he strangle you?"

Lando pushed Carlos harder into the wall for a few seconds and then let go, turning around and stepping away from him, his body tense from head to two. "I don't know what you want from me, Carlos! I've never said 'no' when you've asked to spend time with me. I've never denied anything you've asked me!"

"No, you just keep telling me to piss off."

"And yet still you don't!" Lando retorted, whirling around to face Carlos again. "I'm so tired of fighting with you."

"Then stop fighting," Carlos suggested, finally stepping away from the wall. He sat down on Lando's massage table and patted the space next to him. "Let's just sit and talk?" Lando was showing many symptoms of a recent strangulation - bloodshot eyes, a headache, a sore throat, and Lando had complained about the conditions in the race making his ear ring and his chest feel tight.

"I don't know what to talk about," Lando said quietly, sitting down next to Carlos but leaving a big gap between them. He didn't want a cuddle. He didn't deserve any affection.

"All I want you to do is answer my questions honestly," Carlos said, trying his best not to sound accusatory. "I want to know the truth, and I want to help you."

"Why?"

"Why do I want to help you?" Carlos replied. "Because I'm your friend, Lando. I care about your wellbeing and I care what happens to you. I want you to be happy."

"You can't make me happy," Lando protested, his eyes fixed at a black mark on the floor. 

Carlos sighed quietly and turned to face Lando. "Does Max hit you?"

"I hit him sometimes as well," Lando mumbled, hating every second of the conversation. He was too exhausted to put up a fight to Carlos though, and he felt like the truth was being dragged out of him and he was just a witness to the conversation. Deflecting Carlos's answers felt like an auto-pilot behaviour, as if Lando wasn't really in control of what he was saying.

"When did he strangle you?"

"Yesterday."

"Was it the first time he'd done it?" Carlos asked, remaining calm even though his blood was boiling. Max was his friend too and Carlos wanted to storm over to the Red Bull garage and strangle Max and see how _he_ liked it.

When Lando didn't answer, Carlos tried a different question. "Has he ever raped you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You can't rape your boyfriend," Lando explained, looking up to meet Carlos's stare. "I'm his boyfriend. We're supposed to have sex. Besides, it's not rape if I have an orgasm too, right? Max isn't a bad person and I hate that you're trying to make out like he is. Max loves me. I love him. How is that rape?"

"Hold on a second," Carlos said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He scrolled through to George's name and pressed the call button, putting his phone on speakerphone. He knew Lando would make excuses for Carlos not being currently in a relationship with a man and therefore not being qualified to talk about consent, but the same excuses could not be made for George.

"What are you doing?" Lando asked quickly. "Who are you calling?"

"Hello?"

"George, it's Carlos. Have you got two minutes to talk?" Carlos asked, holding his phone out in the gap between him and Lando so that Lando could hear clearly.

"Sure, but it's got to be definitely two minutes because I'm about to be get yelled at by my PR woman."

Lando glared at Carlos and then stared back at the floor, folding his hands together in his lap and wishing that Carlos would just hang up the phone and leave Lando on his own to sleep.

"Just listen," Carlos said quietly to Lando, turning his attention back to his phone. "George, has Alex ever said 'no' to sex, like when you've been in the mood and he hasn't, or something?"

"Carlos, what is this about?" George laughed. "Why are you phoning me to talk about my sex life?"

"Sorry, I'm with a friend," Carlos explained. "I don't want to talk about your sex life. I want to talk about consent, actually. About what saying 'no' means."

"I see. Well, yes. Sometimes Alex has said no, and when that happens, you have to respect it. Maybe he doesn't want sex but he's up for some making out instead. Or maybe he doesn't want anything and he just wants a cuddle. You have to communicate with each other, really listen and work out what he wants. There's always a middle ground where you can both be happy. 'No' doesn't mean 'fuck off I never want to be near you again,' it means 'not this, not now.' And consent can change, even in the middle of sex. Being totally blunt here, a couple of times, he's suggested something I didn't want, so I said 'no', and he didn't do it. Everyone has their own boundaries for what's acceptable and what they want, and they can change from person to person and they can even change on the same day. Sometimes you might even be up for trying something new but then do it and decide you don't like it, and say 'no' then. And your partner has to respect that. People talk about consent like you need some written agreement authorising you to touch your partner, but if you're in a loving relationship, it's not like that at all. Don't just aim for consent, right? Aim for enthusiasm. Everyone deserves to have _good_ sex, and if your partner doesn't seem like they're enjoying sometimes, even if they haven't explicitly said 'no' or 'stop', then check with them. It's a joint activity; it's supposed to be fun for everyone involved. Does that make sense?"

Carlos glanced across that Lando and saw that he was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks and silent sobs shaking his whole body. "That makes sense. Thank you, George."

"No worries. See you at the airport?"

"Yeah, see you then. Ciao." Carlos ended the call and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He scooted across the table and reached his arm around Lando's shoulder. "Come here, my friend."

"Fuck off," Lando squeaked, leaning away from Carlos's touch and falling off the table onto the floor. He landed on his shins and cried out weakly in pain, bending forward and wrapping his arms around himself as his forehead nearly met his knees.

Carlos carefully climbed off the table, kneeling down next to Lando on the floor. He reached out again and placed his hand on Lando's back, saying nothing.

Lando pulled away again after a few seconds, slowly scrambling back until his back was against the wall and he sat and stared at Carlos, rubbing his eyes furiously to make the tears go away. "How dare you?!" he asked. Everything hurt. "You say you're my friend and you want to help, but you're not helping at _all_. You're just making me feel like _shit_, Carlos. You can't just come in my room after the race, lock me in here, and tell me my boyfriend's been raping me. What the fuck?! It's not fucking fair."

"I'm sorry," Carlos said, his heart aching. He didn't think he'd been the bad person in all of this, but here they were and Carlos was making Lando feel worse, not better. "I just want to help you. Max has been brainwashing you."

"Shut up!" Lando snapped, a fresh wave of tears overwhelming him. "I'm not fucking stupid, Carlos."

"Does he ever make you feel scared?" Carlos asked, frowning. "Do you ever worry about how he'll react? Do you ever have to be careful about not saying the wrong thing in case he hurts you?"

"Only all the time," Lando replied, hiding his face in his hands. "Oh my _God_."

Carlos inched across the floor and pulled Lando into his arms, holding him close and resting his chin on top of Lando's head. He squeezed him tighter when Lando didn't fight him. "I've got you, my friend," he said quietly, kissing Lando's hair. "I'm right here."

"I feel sick," Lando mumbled, burying his face against Carlos's shoulder. He hated Carlos for upsetting him but he felt relief as well now that someone else knew the truth about his relationship with Max. 

"I'm really care about you," Carlos admitted, reaching his hand up and stroking Lando's hair to help soothe him and calm him down. "And I know how much you love him. But this is not a healthy, loving relationship, Lando. This has to stop."

"Don't you think I've tried that?" Lando asked, his body relaxing in Carlos's arms now that his crying had eased, even though his head was still spinning. "Because I did. Over the summer. He fucking broke my sim and we had a massive argument and I told him enough was enough but then he had a massive meltdown and told me he'd kill himself if I ever left him because he couldn't bare to live without me."

"He's just threatening you."

"Yes, and it fucking scared me," Lando replied. "Anyway, he bought me a new sim and promised me he'd do better, so we've been trying harder to make things work between us."

"You need to leave him."

"He's not a bad person," Lando insisted. "He really does love me, you know." Lando tentatively pushed himself up to his feet, reaching down and patting the dust off his trousers. He reached out and offered his hand to Carlos, pulling him to his feet. Now that he'd completely stopped crying, he felt stronger. "I appreciate you caring, I really do. But, _please_, I just want to go back to the hotel and sleep. It was a fucking long race and I'm exhausted. I've already got a lot on my mind and you've given me even more to think about."

"Will you please think about ending this relationship?" Carlos asked as Lando led him over to the door. "For your own safety?"

"I will think about it," Lando replied, smiling at Carlos before unlocking the door and ushering him out. "I'll see you later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Lando. :(


	4. "I'll do better, Lando, I promise."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two short scenes. In the first, Max tries his best to look after Lando. In the second, Carlos tries again to get through to Lando.

Lando fidgeted on the sofa in his apartment, shivering. He felt hot and cold at the same time, but the overwhelming feeling was one of coldness. His head was thumping and he was wearing pyjamas that he didn't remember dressing himself in. It was just about still daylight outside, and the last thing Lando really remembered was it being morning.

"Max?" he called out, gripping the fabric of the sofa for something concrete in reality to grasp. "Are you here?"

"I'm here," Max said, appearing from the kitchen. He reached over the back of the sofa and gently smoothed down Lando's messy hair. "You were taking a nap."

"I'm fucking freezing," Lando said quietly, still trembling and he wasn't sure it was all entirely because of how cold he felt.

"Here." Max grabbed a blanket and draped it over Lando, pulling it up over a chest but making sure it still covered his feet. "How are you feeling?"

"_Awful_," Lando replied, resting his head against the back of the sofa. He let out a quiet groan at the pain in his neck but didn't feel weak enough to haul his head back upright. "We've got to stop doing this, Max. People are starting to ask questions."

"By 'people', do you mean 'Carlos'?" Max frowned. "Don't worry about him; he doesn't know what he's talking about."

"I know, but..." Lando trailed off, closing his eyes. "When was the last time I ate?"

"I'm cooking pasta right now," Max said, reaching over Lando and kissing his forehead. "I'll bring it to you, okay? You can stay right here and warm up. Do you want me to make you a hot water bottle?"

"No, it's okay," Lando replied. It would take more than a hot water bottle to make him feel better. He opened his eyes and peered up at Max. "Will you consider getting help?" he asked tentatively.

"Of course," Max replied without hesitation. "I'll do better, Lando, I promise. I love you, yeah?"

"Yeah," Lando replied, feeling the urge to sleep again. "Wake me up when the pasta is ready. And don't put too much pepper in it this time, please."

\---

Lando was looking forward to the last race of the season - one last opportunity to score some points, one more opportunity to try and beat Carlos in qualifying and prove that he was the faster driver, and one last opportunity to drive his beloved papaya racing car.

Lando was excited as well to have his Father out at the race. He hadn't seen too much of his Father over the recent months; he'd been busy with work and with supporting Lando's sister with her showjumping, and so Lando was excited to have some alone time with his Father.

"You know," Adam said, hugging Lando before he went out to the car for qualifying. "It's okay if you're gay, Lando. Your Mum and I don't care if you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, just as long as you're happy. If anyone ever tried to hurt you, you can come to us. "

Lando froze in his Father's embrace for a few moments, squeezing him a little bit tighter. He pulled away, saying nothing and wondering how his Father could have figured out that Lando had a boyfriend. "Thanks, Dad," he mumbled. "Gotta go."

After qualifying and the debriefs, Lando went straight to Carlos's room in the paddock, banging on the door. "Carlos, are you in here?"

"Have you come to gloat?" Carlos asked, ripping the door open and ushering Lando inside. "Congratulations, my friend. You drove better than me today."

Lando closed the door behind him and leant up against it; it was his turn to trap Carlos in his driver room this time. "Have you been talking to my Father about me and Max?"

"No," Carlos replied, frowning. "I haven't said anything to your Father this weekend except a 'hello, nice to see you'."

"Well he knows that I'm gay now, and I'm trying to figure out how."

"He's a smart man, maybe he figured it out on his own?" Carlos suggested. "He's not an idiot. Parents have ways of knowing things about their children."

"He said if anyone ever hurts me, I can go to him," Lando elaborated. "You definitely haven't said anything to anyone about me and Max?"

"I told Andreas," Carlos said, memories of his meeting with their team boss flooding his mind.

"You did _what_?!" Lando asked, almost hitting the roof. "Carlos, what the fuck! What did you tell him exactly?!"

"I didn't go into all the details," Carlos replied quickly. "Just the minimum. I wanted him to know because he's going to have to deal with the media if Max ever kills you."

"Max isn't going to kill me," Lando said, rolling his eyes. "You're a fucking idiot, Carlos."

"No I'm not," Carlos insisted. "I've read the statistics, Lando. When your partner moves on to choking you and strangling you, you're ten times more likely to die. I can't help worrying about you, and I will always try to protect you even when you don't care for your own life."

Lando felt his chest heaving with his heavy breathing but he forced himself not to launch himself at Carlos. He frowned, his mind filling with a flashback to when Max's hands were covering his face. "It's not really ten times more likely."

"No, it might be more, actually," Carlos said calmly. "And even if you don't die, there can be long-lasting consequences. You can have brain damage, or memory loss, or changes in your vision. And the effects don't even show up straight away, it can take months. You could get to Australia not year and not be able to drive the car because of what Max has done to you."

"Stop talking," Lando snapped, finding himself reaching up and rubbing his neck. "Just, shut up."

"I don't want to upset you," Carlos insisted, taking a small step towards Lando. "And I didn't tell Andreas who your boyfriend is, and I didn't tell him that you're gay. I just told him you're going through some stuff in your relationship and that you're in danger. Because you _are_ in danger. And if you end up in the hospital, or dead, then it's going to be Andreas's job to explain all that to the team and the media, and he can only do that properly if he's prepared for it."

Lando span around, his back to Carlos, and smacked his forehead against the door. He smacked it again before just resting his head on the door instead. "This is so messed up."

Carlos closed the gap between them and placed his hand on Lando's back. "Maybe you're right, maybe I am a fucking idiot, but I still care about you and I'm trying my best to protect you. When you're ready for my help, I'll be here. I know I can't make you leave him. You have to figure that out for yourself."

"He says he's going to get help," Lando said, screwing his eyes shut. "He knows he hurts me."

"Did he say when?" Carlos asked. "Did he give you an exact date and an exact person he's going to talk to?"

Lando sighed dejectedly. "I've got to go. I'm sorry, Carlos, really I am." He opened the door and left without a single look back at Carlos.


	5. "You were right about everything"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head between Max and Lando and Lando's forced to make a phone call that could save his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's violence in this chapter. There's some explicitly mentioned but the more violent stuff is implied. Just a heads up for those of you who need it.

Lando pressed a bloodied hand against the wall in the hallway of his home. Pain shot through his wrist and up his arm but he managed go get himself upright. His chest was heaving as he struggled to get much-needed oxygen into lungs and standing upright made him feel dizzy, like he was sure he was going to pass out again.

Glancing down the hallway, Lando knew he had to get away from Max. He had to get himself to a safer place. But if he left the house, they'd be out in the street and Max would surely overpower Lando again. Lando was naked, bleeding from his head, and sure that he had broken his ribs as he was thrown down the stairs. If he left the house, he'd fall into the street and because it was two o'clock in the morning, nobody would be around to see Max grab him.

Hearing Max's footsteps coming down the stairs after him, Lando pushed himself away from the wall and grabbed the door to his downstairs toilet. Like all British new-build houses, the downstairs toilet wasn't big enough for the door to open inwards, and the light switch was on the outside of the room. Lando ducked inside the pitch black room and pulled the door closed behind him, locking it.

Lando collapsed against the ice-cold radiator and sank down onto the floor, the pain in his ribs preventing him from curling up entirely. He sat slumped against the edge of the toilet, its cold ceramic digging into his back and he blinked and squinted, trying to see something - anything - in the room. There were no windows. The only way out was the way he'd come in, and now Max was on the other side of the door, angrily rattling the lock.

Lando knew his phone was still upstairs, plugged in on the bedside table and charging. It hadn't lost too much charge over the day; he'd barely used his phone at all. Lando lifted his left arm to his face and his Apple watch lit up, its harsh glare making Lando's eyes sting. Lando lifted his right hand too and pressed the button on the side of the watch. The screen changed from 02:12 to "What can I help you with?" and Lando whispered "Call Carlos."

He had no idea if Carlos would be awake or even near his phone at two o'clock in the morning but he had to try. Carlos had always said he'd be there for Lando and Lando prayed that the one time he needed Carlos, he'd be true to his word.

"Lando, what's up?" Carlos's voice was tinny through the speaker of his watch and Lando immediately turned down the volume, his bloody fingers struggling to delicately twist the button. "Are you okay?"

"No," Lando replied, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. He flinched every time Max banged on the door and it sent pain searing through his torso. "It's Max, he... _fuck_, Carlos. You were right about everything. He's going to kill me."

"Call the police." Carlos's voice was calm.

"What? No, I can't do that," Lando insisted. "He's my boyfriend."

"He's your boyfriend and if you don't call the police, you're going to _die_," Carlos replied. "Lando, I'm coming for you, my friend. I'm going to get in my car and come over right now, but I will not get there quick enough. I'm going to hang up now, and you're going to call the police, okay?"

"Okay." Lando watched the call end and then used his little finger to swipe through the small screen of his watch. His vision was blurry and it took him a few goes to correctly input 999 into the phone app, but he hit the phone icon and the call connected.

"Emergency services operator. Which service do you require?"

"Police," Lando said, clearing his throat and tasting blood. He licked over his teeth, checking they were all still there and waited for the call to go through to the police. He held his wrist closer to his face.

The police asked for Lando's address which he supplied without hesitation and when the police asked Lando to explain exactly what was happening, he tried his best to be clear.

In the hallway, Max paused for a second. Frowning, he pressed his ear to the door. "Who are you talking to?" he asked coldly. "Are you on the phone?!"

Lando froze then, finding himself unable to speak anymore as he heard the sound of Max running up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time, and then heading down the corridor to Lando's bedroom. Lando knew what was coming next and he glanced down at his watch, hearing the operator say "Lando, are you still there?" before Max ended the call from Lando's phone.

Seconds later, Max was back at the door to the downstairs toilet, banging on it again and Lando was convinced this is how his life ended - on his own, huddled in his downstairs toilet. 

"Lando, open the fucking door, I swear to God..."

"No," Lando replied quietly, as much an answer to Max as a confirmation to himself that he wasn't done fighting yet. Lando had done the right thing. He'd called Carlos, and he'd called the police. His only job now was to stay alive until they got there.

Max flipped the light switch a few times, blinding Lando in frustration before giving the door one last thump. He had an idea then and everything went quiet for a few moments. Lando pushed himself away from the edge of the toilet, moving to sit with his back to the radiator. If Max was coming in the room, Lando had to face him square on. There was nowhere to hide, so the only option left was to attack.

Lando heard a drawer bang in the kitchen and then Max came back with what Lando assumed was a spoon or some other cutlery, something Max could use to undo the lock from the outside.

Lando tried his best to slow his breathing but it made him cough and coughing made him taste blood and cry. He felt almost blind in the pitch black room but he could see just enough to know where the door was. When he heard the lock undo and Max slowly twist the handle, Lando kicked the door as hard as he could. It flew open, sending Max backwards into the wall. 

Scrambling to his feet, Lando stepped out of the downstairs toilet. He closed the door and tried to step over Max, unlocking the front door. As he twisted the handle, Max kicked his legs out from underneath him and he fell to the floor.

Lando couldn't hear the sirens as he fought Max off again, using what was left of his strength to kick Max wherever he could. He managed to stand up again, leaving more bloodied handprints on the wall and he ripped the front door open, stumbling out into the street. The last thing he felt as he passed out was Max's hand on his ankle, pulling him backwards and the last thing he saw before his eyes closed was the flashing blue lights of a police car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt really scary to write; it's probably the scariest thing I've ever written. I hope I did it justice and I hope I made you all feel something while reading it.


	6. "What happened to you, my friend?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George helps Carlos get through to Lando in the hospital.

Carlos stood over Lando’s bed, feeling nauseous like he had done when he’d seen Lando lifted into the back of the ambulance a couple of hours earlier. He reached out one hand, gently smoothing Lando’s hair away from his forehead.

Lando was sitting up on his hospital trolley, wrapped in a white hospital gown and yellow hospital blankets. He had a tube in his nose supplying oxygen to help him breathe and he had a heart rate monitor connected to his fingertip. An IV in his arm was supplying fluids and Lando’s eyes were closed. His face was swollen and Carlos wasn’t sure Lando would even be able to open his eyes. He had bruising on his neck that disappeared down inside his gown and a large cut on his forehead that was covered in a large white dressing.

“What happened to you, my friend?” Carlos asked sadly, running his fingers through Lando’s hair, careful not to get his nails stuck where his hair was matted with blood.

Lando stirred, wincing as he opened his eyes. He turned towards Carlos slightly but stopped when the stabs of pain made him seize up. 

“Ssh, stay still,” Carlos soothed, dropping his hand to Lando’s shoulder. “It’s only me, Carlos. Nobody else is here and I’m not going to hurt you, my friend. You’re safe, Lando, you’re so safe here.”

Lando peered up at Carlos, frowning slightly because his vision was blurred. He opened his mouth to speak but struggled to find any words.

“Take your time,” Carlos said softly. “I’m not going to leave you.”

Lando’s voice was hoarse and Carlos struggled to understand his mumbling. The only word he could make out as he leaned in closer was “Max.”

“Max isn’t here,” Carlos explained. “He’s been arrested. Do you remember? When the police got to your house, you and Max were in the road. The police got the ambulance, and the ambulance got you here.”

Lando swallowed and Carlos could tell it caused him pain, even with the strong painkillers coursing through his veins. Carlos squeezed Lando’s shoulder, wanting at least some part of his body to feel comfort instead of agony.

“Did you call Andreas?” Lando asked, his voice slightly more confident.

“I did,” Carlos replied. “And I called Christian. The only people I haven’t called yet are your parents. What do you want me to tell them?”

“Everything,” Lando croaked, wincing again in pain and screwing his eyes shut. He knew it was a big ask of Carlos and he didn’t know how his parents would take the news that he was dating Max and that he was in the hospital, but he was too exhausted to put up a fight anymore. With the police being involved and Lando being hospitalised, he knew there was no way he could hide this and deny it anymore. It was time for the truth.

\---

“Carlos!” George sprinted down the corridor in the hospital when he spotted Carlos. He threw his arms around his friend and pulled him into a tight cuddle. “I came as soon as Alex told me. Fucking hell, mate, are you alright?”

“Not really, no,” Carlos replied, squeezing George back, not wanting to let go. “I’ve only had two hours of sleep, and now it is nearly lunchtime.”

“You must be exhausted, you poor thing,” George said, relaxing his grip on Carlos and pulling him back down to the bench he’d just been sitting on. George wrapped his arm around Carlos’s shoulder. “How’s Lando doing?”

“His parents are with him right now,” Carlos replied, gesturing at a closed curtain surrounding a cubicle a few metres down the corridor from where he was sitting. “I had to call them and tell them what happened, and it just killed me, you know? How can you phone someone’s parents and tell them their son is in the hospital? How can you tell them his boyfriend tried to kill him, when they didn’t even know he’s gay?”

George leant across and kissed the top of Carlos’s head. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against Carlos’s hair, feeling his stomach tighten as he imagined how his parents would react if they ever got a similar phone call.

Carlos balled his hands into his fists but forced himself to relax again. He was worn out from being coiled tight like a spring since three am when he’d been woken up by Lando’s phone call. “I saw Max.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. When I got to Lando’s house, Max was outside with the police,” Carlos explained, reaching one hand up and rubbing his chest. “He was covered in scratch marks. All up over his chest, and on his face, like Lando had been so desperate, oh _fuck_.” Carlos’s tears choked him up too much to speak and he curled towards George, hiding his face in his hands. “He must have tried so hard to fight back.”

“Come here, mate,” George said, pulling Carlos close and rubbing his back, wishing there was more he could do to make Carlos feel better. “I’ve got you.”

Carlos cried harder, the stress of the past few months spilling out of him. He pushed his hands up into his hair and pulled on it, his fingers clawing up. “I should have tried harder to separate them. I should have done more.”

“No, you can’t beat yourself up over this, Carlos. Lando has been so lucky to have a friend like you to look out for him. We all could have done more.”

“Fuck,” Carlos mumbled, pulling away from George and sitting up straight, rubbing his eyes. “I feel like the image is burned into my mind. I really wanted to kill him.”

“Let the police handle it.”

“You’re right, I know,” Carlos sighed. “I just… Fuck, how could he hurt Lando? He has the kindest personality of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know how he could do it,” George said, shaking his head. “It’s fucked up.”

“What’s fucked up is that Lando doesn’t want Max to go to prison,” Carlos snapped. “He’s here, lying in the hospital, and all he can think about is that he doesn’t want Max to go to prison because he doesn’t want to ruin Max’s career. He keeps apologising and I don’t know how to make him see that he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

George frowned and glanced down the corridor at Lando’s cubicle. His parents came out and approached George and Carlos, looking about as terrible as George had expected for two people who just found out their son was in the hospital after an assault. George stood up to greet them, shaking Lando’s Father’s hand and giving his Mother a quick hug.

“We’re going to go and get a coffee,” Adam explained. “Will you try and talk some sense into him while we’re gone? He doesn’t want to give a statement to the police.”

Carlos stood up quickly, rubbing the last of the tears out of his eyes and straightening his hoodie. “We’ll try and talk some sense into him. He’s pretty stubborn though, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, we’ll give it a go,” George said, steering Carlos away from Lando’s parents and down to his cubicle.

Lando frowned when he saw Carlos and George appear next to his bed. “Don’t even try and change my mind,” he said, as forcefully as he could muster. “I already told my parents I won’t tell the police anything.”

“It’s okay, you might not have to,” George said brightly, putting his hand on Carlos’s arm to indicate he should keep quiet. “You know how the legal system works in this country, right?”

Lando closed his eyes. “No.”

“Well,” George explained. “The police gather all the evidence they can, and then they give it to the CPS - the Criminal Prosecution Service - and they decide whether or not to prosecute. The victim of a crime doesn’t really get a say. It sounds like the police already have a lot of evidence, and I’m sure Carlos will give a statement and the paramedics will give a statement. They might be able to prosecute Max without you needing to say anything.”

Lando opened his eyes again, frowning. “I can’t be responsible in sending him to prison,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know he messed up, but… George, I just _can’t_. You’ve got to understand. You wouldn’t do it to Alex.”

“Hey, listen to me,” George said softly, leaning in closer to Lando but not wanting to intimidate him. “I hear what you’re saying, Lando. You love him and you don’t want him to go to prison. I get that. I would probably say the same thing. And nobody is going to force you to talk to the police. We just want you to share your side of things with them, that’s all. The police are only interested in the truth, and if you don’t give them your statement, then the only story of the truth will be Max’s.”

Lando turned towards George, licking his lips because his mouth was dry. Tears threatened the corners of his eyes but he blinked them away. “I love him so much.”

“I know you do, mate,” George said, reaching his arm out and stroking Lando’s hair. Lando curled into the touch, grateful that someone actually seemed to believe that he could love Max. “But after what he’s done to you… he can’t love you back.”

Lando screwed his eyes shut as tears leaked out over his bruised cheeks. His breath hitched and his eyes flew open, panicked. He shifted in the bed, struggling to catch his breath and reached his hand out for George. “I can’t _breathe_!”

Carlos ducked out of the cubicle and shouted for a nurse. A tall woman at the nurses’s station heard the cry and came rushing over into the cubicle. She took one look at Lando and then called for one of her Doctor colleagues. Turning to Carlos and George, she ushered them away from Lando. “Out!”

\---

George wandered around the hospital car park, his phone clamped to his ear. It was nearly dinner time now; the sun had set and George was feeling the cold through his hoodie. He relaxed a little when he heard Alex answer the call.

“George? What’s happening?” 

George could hear the concern in Alex’s voice and he wanted to crawl through the phone and cuddle him until he felt better. “Lando’s okay,” he said. “Well, obviously he’s not ‘okay’, but… yeah. They gave him some sedatives which knocked him out for a couple of hours, and Carlos sat with him while he gave his statement to the police.”

“Okay. How’s Carlos?”

“He’s a mess,” George replied. “Will you be okay if I go back to his flat with him tonight? At the very least, he shouldn’t be driving, and I don’t think he should be on his own tonight either. After what he’s witnessed today-”

“-Go with him,” Alex interrupted, cutting George off mid-sentence. “I mean, I want you to come home, but I think Carlos needs you more tonight. Has he eaten?”

“No,” George said, standing still and gazing back at the hospital building. He could just about see his breath in the cold air. “I tried to get him to eat something earlier but he just said he felt sick. I’ll try again when we get him home. Lando’s going to be here for a few days; they’ve moved him to a different ward just after lunch. They said they don’t need to surgery; he has fractures in his wrist, ribs, and cheekbone, as well as a concussion. They’re most worried about his airway, the muscles in his neck and his broken ribs and stuff. But he’s breathing without any help, which is a good sign, apparently.”

“Fuck, George,” Alex said and George could hear him sigh down the phone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alright,” George replied, reassuring himself as much as Alex that he was indeed holding it together. “I’m doing okay. I can keep it together for Carlos and Lando. It’s been rough though, for sure. Lando didn’t want to give a statement to the police. He didn’t want to get Max in trouble. He said I wouldn’t give a statement to the police if you attacked me, and I was like ‘no, Alex would rather kill himself than lay a hand on me like that.’”

“Damn right,” Alex said quietly. “How can we help Lando?”

“By being as judgement-free as possible and letting the professionals do their work,” George replied, shivering. “I know Carlos is finding it hard. Every time Lando sticks up for Max, Carlos has to not tell him he’s being stupid, even though he is. Carlos is trying so hard to not upset him and I know it’s tough for Carlos too because Max is his friend.”

“It’s such a mess, isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, I’d be devastated to see Max spend the rest of his life in prison, but on the other hand, there can’t just be no consequences for him either. He has to have some sort of punishment.”

“I don’t really want to think about it,” George admitted. “I’m just trying to concentrate on Lando and Carlos right now. Max is a whole separate issue. I’m going to go back inside now and find Carlos, it’s bloody freezing out here. I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, George.”

“I love you too,” George said, smiling into his phone before ending the call and shoving his phone back in his pocket. He went back into the hospital to say goodnight to Lando and see if he could drag Carlos away for some proper food and a proper rest.


	7. "You're a piece of shit"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max goes to visit Carlos.

"Is Lando here?" was the first thing he asked when Carlos had opened the door to his house. Max was standing on the porch trying to keep out of the pissing rain. It was five o'clock in the evening and he'd driven down from Milton Keynes on the windy, miserable January afternoon. He hadn't spoken to Carlos since leaving Abu Dhabi at the end of the previous season.

Carlos frowned, fighting the urge to slam the door in Max's face. He gripped the door handle tighter but then sighed. If Max had gone to the effort of driving all the way from Milton Keynes to Weybridge in Friday afternoon traffic, then he must have something he really wanted to say. "No, he's not here."

"Can I come in then?" Max asked. One of the multiple restrictions he had on his bail was that he wasn't allowed to contact Lando, go to Lando's house, or go anywhere near Lando. "Please?"

"Sure." Carlos relaxed his grip on the door handle to let Max into the house and he led Max through to the kitchen. He poured Max a glass of water and placed it on the breakfast bar before climbing up to sit on one of the stools.

Max closed the front door and kicked his shoes off in the hall way, following Carlos through to the kitchen and gratefully received the water, immediately downing half the glass. He sat on the stool next to Carlos, desperate for some attention. "How's Lando doing? Do you see him a lot?"

"Not really," Carlos replied, shrugging. He'd seen Lando only twice since Lando had left the hospital and moved back in with his parents because he was too afraid to go back to his house. They'd spoken on the phone more frequently, when Lando had phoned Carlos to either cry down the phone or shout at him. 

"Oh."

The two of them sat in silence for a little while before Max reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. He held it out to Carlos. "Will you give this to Lando? I'm not allowed to talk to him, but I wrote him a letter."

Carlos accepted the piece of paper and eyed it suspiciously. "I'm going to read it first before I'll consider giving it to him," he said, unfolding the piece of paper. Max fidgeted uncomfortably while Carlos read it and when he was done, Carlos neatly folded it back up and gave it back to Max. "I can't give this to him."

"Why not?" Max asked sadly. 

"Because it's not a proper apology," Carlos said coldly, slamming the piece of paper down on the breakfast bar in front of Max. "You talk about regret and forgiveness, but you haven't taken any responsibility for how what you've done has hurt everyone. That letter is full of excuses and none of them are valid." He sighed, taking a slow breath to force himself to calm down because he didn't want to provoke Max into getting angry. He was too tired to fight. "It's like you don't see the hurt you've caused."

"I see it," Max said calmly. "Everything is so messed up, I know it is. I know I've blown it, Carlos. The police have taken my passport away so I can't go home, and Christian has taken my contract away so I can't go to work either. The only friends I have left in this country are you and Alex and neither of you return my fucking calls. I'm so fucking _lonely_."

"Lonely?!" Carlos spat, unable to control his anger anymore. "You're selfish, Max. That's what you are. You're still just thinking about yourself. What about Lando? What about _me_? You really do have no idea what you've done, do you?"

"So tell me!" Max said, slipping off the stool and angrily shoving it back under the breakfast bar. "I want to hear what a horrible person I am! Anything is better than silence from you."

"You're fucking selfish," Carlos said, turning on the stool to face Max. "You talked in your letter about the violence you witnessed as a child, and yes, that's awful and yes, I'm sorry you had to go through that, but that's not an excuse for you to do that to someone else. You have to rise above it. You have to be better than your Father was. You're supposed to treat Lando better than your Mother got treated. She still hasn't re-married, right? What do you think Lando's going to do? The guy can't even cope with being in his own home after what you did."

"I'm sorry!"

"You don't need to apologise to me for what you did to Lando," Carlos said, frustrated. "You need to apologise to me for what you did to _me_. How do you think I feel, caught in the middle of all this? I was your team-mate, Max, fuck, I was your room-mate too. I took care of you when you were sick and I was always there for you when you needed me. And now look at us - our friendship is gone. It is completely destroyed."

"We can still be friends," Max said desperately, reaching out for Carlos and flinching when Carlos pulled away.

"There's no coming back from this, Max, not for us," he said, shaking his head. "I put my trust in you, and I was stupid. Can you believe when Lando first denied that you hit him, I was stupid enough to believe him? And when he said he'd leave you, I believed that too? I didn't want to believe that you could hurt him, and look how fucking wrong I was."

"What do you want me to say?!" Max asked, pacing up and down in the kitchen.

"I want you to say what you're going to do to try and make this better," Carlos replied. "I want you to tell me you're going to anger management classes. I want you to tell me that you're going to counselling. I want you to take some actual responsibility for what you did. You know what? I'm _glad_ the police have taken your passport away. I'm glad you're not living your luxury life down in Monaco while Lando is too afraid to sleep because he has nightmares about you raping him. You're a piece of shit, Max, and you deserve everything that you get."

Max froze, whirling around to face Carlos. He grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him off the chair, slamming him up against the wall. He gripped Carlos's shirt tighter in his fists, breathing hard.

Carlos met Max's stare and kept his arms at his sides, not fighting back at all. "You don't scare me, Max," he said calmly. "You're pathetic, that's all."

Max pushed Carlos harder against the wall and then let go of him completely, turning around and crossing the kitchen before turning back to Carlos, his chest still heaving. "I'm not my Father."

"No, you're not," said Carlos, relaxing and straightening his shirt. "It's time for you to take responsibility, Max. The police have taken your passport away, and Christian has taken your drive away, so it sounds like you have some free time. Use it to try and make this better somehow."

"And what if I go to prison?" Max asked, sounding frightened for the first time that evening. "What then?"

"Then you face it like a man," Carlos replied. "You admit to everything you've done, and you face the consequences."

Max sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm scared of going to prison."

"And that's understandable," Carlos said, though his tone wasn't particularly sympathetic. "But think how scared Lando felt when you had your hands around his throat. Put things in perspective. Maybe I'll always be stupid, but I still think, somewhere, you can be better than your Father."

"Do you hate me?"

"No," Carlos replied. "But only because spending time hating you isn't going to help me feel better. I have to focus on taking care of myself, taking care of Lando, and somehow rescuing my friendship with him. I don't have the time or the energy to think about hating you."

"I should go," Max said, heading for the hallway. He leant against the wall and pulled his shoes on. "I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry."

Carlos reached out and put his hand on Max's shoulder, frustrated at himself for shouting at Max. "If you ever want to write Lando a proper apology, I'll consider giving it to him." He squeezed Max's shoulder and then let go, opening the front door.

"I guess the next time we'll see each other will be in court then," Max said, frowning at the floor, unable to meet Carlos's gaze. "Take care of yourself."

"You too," Carlos said, closing the door behind Max and sinking down onto his knees, hugging himself as silent sobs ripped through his whole body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I feel like a bad writer because I start writing before everything is finished being planned in my head, and then the story changes half way through. Originally I was thinking that Max would keep his drive, but as time has gone on, it's become obvious that he can't keep it. I don't see any way Red Bull would open themselves up to that sort of liability.


	8. "This wasn't your fault"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos goes to visit Lando and the two of them try to repair their friendship.

“I miss you xx” It wasn’t a long text but it was enough to convey how Carlos was feeling. He pressed the ‘send’ button and then tossed his phone down onto the mattress next to him, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow. It was ten o’clock at night, in theory late enough to go to bed, but Carlos wasn’t feeling even slightly tired.

The sound and feel of his phone vibrating tore Carlos out of his wallowing pit of despair and he grabbed his phone, swiping across the screen to answer the call. “Hello?”

“I miss you too, Carlos.” Lando’s voice sounded bright and Carlos immediately scrambled to sit up, holding the phone as close to his ear as he could.

“Hello, are you there? Carlos?” Lando asked.

“I’m here,” Carlos replied. “How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks.” The last time they’d spoken on the phone, Lando had shouted at Carlos both for getting involved in his relationship and also not getting involved enough. 

“I’m doing a lot better. Do you want to meet up? You could come and stay down here at my parents’ for a few days. There’s plenty of space.”

“Are you sure?” Carlos asked tentatively, not wanting to go and trap himself in a house with someone who just wanted to take out his frustration on him. Carlos wanted to be supportive, but he couldn’t be a punching bag.

“Yes,” Lando replied, and Carlos had never heard him sound more sure of something. “I want to see you. Come down to the farm. I know my parents won’t say ‘no’ to an extra pair of hands. I can show you where I grew up. I want to spend time with you, but I’m not ready to come back up to Guildford yet. I know I’ve treated you like shit these past few months. Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?”

Carlos closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Lando sounded almost desperate for a second chance and he wondered how many times Lando had been asked that same question by Max. 

When Carlos didn’t respond, Lando continued. “I’m sorry, yeah? I’ve treated you terribly. I’ve shouted at you and I’ve called you names and I’ve really made you feel awful. I shouldn’t have taken things out on you. I know I’ve done wrong. I know that you were only trying to help me. I should have listened to you earlier, I should have listened to you so much earlier. You’ve been nothing but good to me, mate, you’re the kindest, sweetest, most giving person I know and it’s killing me that I might have ruined our friendship. I probably don’t deserve it after all the times I’ve called you stupid, but if you still want me as a friend, I’d love an opportunity to try and make it up to you. And maybe I can’t fix it all, maybe we’ll never be as good as we were at the start of last season, but I’d love to try.”

Carlos let out a shaky breath as hot tears trickled down his face. He licked his lips and his tears tasted salty. “Lando.”

“Are you crying?” Lando asked, his voice cracking. “You’ll set me off. Please stop crying.”

“Sorry,” Carlos replied, wiping his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. “Send me your address. I want to come. I don’t want to do this over the phone. Please?”

\---

Carlos made the two hour drive down to the Norris’s family farm in Somerset the next day after Lando had cleared it with his parents and texted Carlos the address. Though the winter weather was cold, it had stayed dry. Carlos parked his Clio next to Lando’s on the large gravel driveway and grabbed his suitcase from the boot, carrying it over the gravel to the porch.

It was Lando’s Mother Cisca who answered the door to greet Carlos. She let him get inside the house before closing the front door and pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you again, Carlos,” she said warmly, pulling away only to cup Carlos’s jaw in her hands and kiss his cheek. 

“You too,” Carlos replied, missing his own Mother. “How are you guys doing?”

“We’re trying our best to support Lando,” Cisca said softly. “It’s going okay-ish. Obviously Lando’s Father wanted to kill Max; I’m sure you felt the same, but we’re letting the Police handle that and we’re just concentrating on helping Lando get through this. He was never a noisy kid, but I do worry when he’s so quiet sometimes. I wonder what he’s thinking and I hope he’s not being too harsh on himself. Sometimes he’s really chatty, and other times he’ll burst into tears while helping me make dinner.”

“Is he talking to any professionals?” Carlos asked, taking off his coat and thanking Cisca as she took it from him to hang up.

“Yes, he goes to therapy twice a week,” Cisca explained, “and he’s been spending a lot of time outside with the animals. I think it’s helped, not spending all day inside on his computer. He made a breakthrough this week and actually got on a horse; he’s never done that before. Anyway, you’re probably sick of talking to me already. I’ll take your suitcase upstairs. Lando’s in the kitchen trying to peel potatoes for dinner. Down the hall, last door on the right.”

Carlos tried to insist on carrying his own suitcase but soon gave up, doing instead as he was told and going to the kitchen. He pushed the door open, not sure what he’d find on the other side. The kitchen was large and Lando was sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, making a mess of peeling potatoes. He looked up when the door opened and scrambled off his stool when he saw Carlos.

Lando crossed the room, his socks skidding on the tiled floor and he threw his arms around Carlos’s shoulders, hiding his face against Carlos’s collar bone. The two of them stood in silence and cuddled each other for the longest time before Lando eventually pulled away.

“Is that my hoodie?” Carlos asked, glancing at Lando’s baggy McLaren hoodie he was wearing with a pair of ripped black jeans.

“I think so,” Lando replied, shrugging. “I did wonder why it was too big.”

“You can keep it,” Carlos replied, following Lando to the breakfast bar and climbing up onto the stool next to him. He looked at Lando and smiled, finally starting to relax. “So… what are you doing?”

“A terrible job at peeling potatoes,” Lando laughed, gesturing at the few potatoes he’d managed to hack the skin off of with the potato peeler. “Are you any good?”

“I can try to help you,” Carlos suggested. “Show me how you do it.”

Lando picked up a potato and one hand and the peeler in the other, pausing when he saw the panicked look on Carlos’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Peel away from you,” Carlos said quickly. “It’s a lot safer. I don’t want you to stab yourself.”

“Fuck!” Lando groaned, slamming the potato and peeler down on the worktop. “I can’t even peel sodding potatoes properly.”

Carlos flinched at Lando’s outburst but tried his best to reassure him. “You’re a racing driver. Why do you need to be able to peel potatoes? It’s just not an important skill anyone expects you to have. Please, let’s try again?”

Lando glared at Carlos but did as he was told, picking up the potato and peeling it away from him, sending the peelings down onto the worktop on the other side of the potato, instead of all down his chest. “It does feel easier this way, I guess.”

\---

“Are you awake?” Lando’s voice sounded quiet and far away even though he was standing in the doorway to the guest room where Carlos was sleeping. Lando was still wearing Carlos’s hoodie having successfully not spilled food on it earlier that evening, and he had a baggy pair of pyjamas bottoms on as well. All his clothes were baggy these days.

Carlos glanced at his watch before replying. 03:46. “I’m awake,” he replied. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Why can’t you sleep?” Lando retorted. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, of course.” The light coming in from outside was just enough that they could see each other, and Carlos scooted over in the bed to make room for Lando, who crawled under the covers next to Carlos but didn’t try to cuddle him. “What’s up, my friend?”

“Nothing much,” Lando replied, curling up on his side and facing Carlos. “Just couldn’t sleep. Thinking too much.”

“Thinking about anything in particular?” Carlos’s accent was thick was sleep but Lando could still understand him.

“Just, everything? Max, specifically. Have you seen him? I’m not allowed to talk to him. Well, technically he’s not allowed to talk to me, but it feels like the same thing. We’re not allowed to talk to each other.”

Carlos licked his lips, not sure if he should tell Lando about his meeting with Max. In the end, he decided to be honest. The only way they could get their friendship back on track would be if they were open with each other. “I saw him once. He came to my house.”

“How is he?” Lando asked tentatively, not wanting to hear that Max was completely fine.

“He’s lonely,” Carlos replied. “The police have taken his passport away so he can’t leave the country, but he doesn’t really have any friends here.”

“And they’ve taken his drive away too, right? I saw that Pierre got announced as moving again.”

“It was Christian who did that, not the police,” Carlos explained. “They think he’s too much of a liability. He’s keeping a very low profile right now. I don’t know what he does every day. He wrote a letter that he asked me to give to you, but I said no.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was a stupid letter,” replied Carlos. “It was a lame attempt at an apology. We had an argument and he left. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

Lando thought for a moment, licking his lips and clearing his throat. “I think I would want to see him again one day.”

“He doesn’t deserve a second chance,” Carlos protested. “He almost killed you.”

“I know that,” Lando said roughly, sighing. “I’m sorry I snapped. I know it’s not your fault, I’m just sick of people telling me all the time that he tried to kill me. Like, I know. I was there. I know better than anyone else does what he did to me. It’s just… I think I would want to speak to him, you know? I haven’t decided what I would say yet though.”

“Maybe that’s something your therapist could help with?” Carlos suggested, stifling a yawn.

“I’ll ask her about it,” Lando replied with a small nod, adding to his mental to do list. “She reckons my relationship with Max never would have worked out, even without all the violence and stuff.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I was using him to fill a hole in myself,” Lando explained. “We were always doomed. I was desperate for validation in my identity and he needed someone he could control. Put the two of us together and although it felt great and intense and first, it was always going to be toxic. I couldn’t be what Max wanted me to be, and Max could never give me the validation I wanted. There’s so much going on in my head, Carlos, I hate it. Sometimes I think that everything will be okay, and sometimes it feels like I don’t even know who I am.”

Seeing Lando’s eyes glass over in what little light was in the room, Carlos tentatively reached out and took Lando’s hand in his, giving him a little squeeze. “You’re Lando.”

“What does that mean though?” Lando asked, not squeezing Carlos back but not pulling away either. “I’ll keep trying to figure it out. Anyway, why don’t you sleep?”

Carlos shrugged and mumbled something incoherent.

“Come on, Carlos, please?” Lando pleaded. “Tell me what you’re thinking? I’m not going to get angry or start crying if you say the wrong thing or anything.”

Carlos opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, but then finally spoke. “I feel angry, and sad, and afraid,” he admitted. “I’m angry that this happened. I’m angry at Max for what he did to you. I’m angry at you for being such a dick when all I was trying to do was help you. I’m angry at myself for not doing more. The first time I saw bruises on you, I should have kept the two of you apart and made sure you never went near each other again.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Lando whispered, not wanting to interrupt Carlos while he was talking.

“I’m sad that this terrible thing happened to you,” Carlos continued. “I’m sad that you’re hurting. I’m sad that Max is hurting too. He’s a grown man and he needs to take responsibility for his actions, but I’m still sad for him. He was my friend for a long time. I’m afraid that he’s going to go to prison for a long time. I’m afraid that you’re not going to heal from this. I’m afraid that every time I go to sleep, I’m just going to keep seeing you and what he did, and I just-” Carlos was too choked up to finish his sentence.

Lando launched himself at Carlos across the bed and wrapped his arms around him as they both broke down in tears. “It’s okay, Carlos,” he said, his voice cracking. “It’s okay.” He pressed himself as close as he could to Carlos, making sure to still leave enough room for Carlos to breathe. “It’s okay,” he whispered again, not knowing if there was anything else he could say to help Carlos feel better.

“Everything is so fucked up,” Carlos murmured.

“I know, it really is,” Lando replied, “but it’s okay,” he added, laughing at the irony in what he was saying. “We’re in such a fucked up situation but we’re still together, right? You and me, we’re still friends. I know we’re going to get through this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is drawing towards a finish soon...


	9. "I feel sick"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lando has an opportunity to speak to Max before his sentencing.

“I hate this,” Alex sighed, dragging his hands through his hair. “I don’t want today to happen. Can we just skip today and go straight to tomorrow instead? It’s such stupid timing. Max gets sentenced today, and then we all fly to Australia tomorrow? I feel sick.”

George reached across the middle of the car and squeezed Alex’s leg. He glanced out the windscreen at the crown court building in front of them before turning back to Alex. “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. I’m sure Lando would understand.”

“No, it’s okay,” Alex said, trying to sound confident. “I want to do this. How are you feeling?”

“Well I’m not exactly looking forward to this,” George replied, “but I’ll be okay. I just want to see it done and try and get some closure so we can get back to racing.”

\---

“You’ve got this,” Carlos said, reaching out and helping Lando straighten his shirt. The two of them were in the bathroom in the court; Lando had just been sick.

“I don’t think I’ve got this,” Lando replied, picking some fluff off of his trousers. “I’m glad he pleaded guilty. I don’t think I would have coped with a whole trial. I don’t think I’d have coped with giving evidence. Having to see him and tell a room full of strangers what he did to me-”

“Don’t think about that, my friend. Concentrate on today. You don’t have to do anything, you don’t have to talk to anybody if you don’t want to. You can sit next to me the whole time, and I’ll hold your hand if you want me to.” Carlos reached out again and smoother Lando’s hair away from his face. Lando still hadn’t let him cut it, as much as he’d wanted to.

They both jumped when the door to the bathroom pushed open. Lando hid his face against Carlos’s shoulder, not wanting to see anyone or have anyone see him. It was only when Carlos spoke that Lando pulled away.

“Max?!” Carlos didn’t expect to see Max before his sentencing. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking a piss like everyone else,” Max replied dryly.

“We should go,” Carlos said, ushering Lando towards the door. Lando’s eyes were wide like a rabbit caught in headlights, having not seen Max since he was attacked.

“No, wait,” Max said quickly, grabbing Lando’s wrist and pulling him back. He immediately let go, taking a big step backwards from Lando. “My Dad is waiting right outside. I’m sorry I just grabbed you.”

Lando reached down and gently rubbed his wrist, feeling conflicted as memories flooded into his mind, and in none of them did Max grab Lando to try and protect him. “We’ll wait until you’re gone,” he said, speaking to Max whilst not meeting his gaze. “Go in a cubicle.”

Max disappeared into a cubicle, locking the door behind him. Carlos tried to hug Lando but Lando shrugged him off. “I’m okay,” he insisted lightly, grabbing a paper towel to wipe his hands.

Lando said nothing while Max came out of the cubicle and washed his hands, but Lando did position himself so that he was between Max and the door. He wasn’t sure if he did it to provide himself an escape route, or if he wanted to make sure Max would have to speak to him. Carlos stayed leant against the worktop with the sinks, his arms folded across his chest.

Max rinsed his hands and wiped them dry with a paper towel, tossing it into the bin. He turned to leave and found Lando in front of him. “Lando, I’m not allowed to be around you, you know that,” he said calmly. “I’ve got to go.”

“Just listen for a second,” Lando replied. “I just wanted you to know, I forgive you. I don’t know what kind of sentence they’re going to give you today, but whatever you do end up getting, I want you to know that I forgive you, okay? I forgive you, Max, and I hope that you will get help.”

“I’ve got to go,” Max said again, scooting around Lando, careful not to touch him as he left the bathroom.

Lando accepted Carlos’s attempt at a hug this time; he slid his arms around Carlos’s waist and rest his head on Carlos’s shoulder. “I had to forgive him,” he explained, “it’s the only way I can move on from this. What happens now is up to the court, right?”

“I’m proud of you,” Carlos said, kissing the top of Lando’s head. He didn’t think he’d be capable of forgiving Max if he found himself in Lando’s position. “I love you, my friend.”

\---

“Lando, wait!” Carlos sprinted after Lando across the court car park but he wasn’t as fast on his feet. “Lando!”

It was George who caught Lando, stepping out from behind a car and practically rugby tackling him to the ground. Lando cried out, grabbing at George’s shoulders as he fell onto his back, tears streaming down his face. He cried harder as George pulled him into a cuddle and the two of them soon found themselves with Alex and Carlos kneeling next to them as well, Lando stuck in the middle of one giant hug.

“Five years!” Lando sobbed, unable to work out who was holding his hand in a futile attempt to try and make him feel better. He hadn’t understood a lot of what was said at Max’s sentencing but he understood the length of his prison term. He knew what five years meant. “Oh my _God_.”

\---

By the time they boarded the flight to Australia, Lando had calmed down. He’d even made sure Alex was okay and made time to thank George for catching him. Lando’s seat was next to Carlos’s on the plane and Lando offered him a headphone splitter so they could watch the same movie together. The seats in business class were large enough that Lando and Carlos could squeeze into one together, if Lando curled up enough on Carlos’s lap.

Carlos found himself dozing whilst watching the film, feeling content to have Lando in his arms. It was a comfortable silence, there was nothing to talk about at that moment. Lando didn’t need any support, Carlos didn’t need any reassurance, and though they both felt thoroughly underprepared for the season ahead, they were both optimistic. McLaren had tried hard to support them, rearranging meetings and keeping media work to a minimum. Now they had 24 hours cut off from the world in a giant tin can in the sky where they could decompress, reset, and get back into race mode.

When Carlos noticed that Lando was asleep, he changed the TV from the movie credits to a forest scene from the meditation and wellness section, and closed his eyes too. The two of them slept more deeply than they had done in weeks, 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only going to be one more chapter in this. I just had a look back at my notes on the first chapter, and they say "I cannot guarantee a happy ending." I stand by that.


	10. "It breaks my heart to see you hurting"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Lando and Carlos try their best for each other. Sometimes even your best still isn't good enough.

“Happy Birthday, Lando,” Carlos said warmly, crossing the hotel room and joining Lando as he gazed out of the window at the city of Sao Paulo beneath them. It was the Friday of the 2020 Brazilian Grand Prix, Lando’s 21st birthday. Lando had convinced his team that they shouldn’t have a party until the Sunday night because he wanted to be able to concentrate on qualifying and the race.

It had been a long season but it had also been a good one. Carlos had won his first ever race in Hungary, and Lando had three podiums (Austria, Singapore, and Russia) but was yet to secure his first win. He’d come close - only half a second behind Leclerc at the end of Singapore. “ _ Fucking Charles _ ,” he’d laughed afterwards. 

Lando smiled brightly and rest his head on Carlos’s shoulder, sliding his arm around Carlos’s waist. “Muchas gracias,” he said, his pronunciation a lot better after he’d used some spare time over the season to practice. He was far from fluent but he could say some basic phrases. “It’s been a pretty crazy twelve months.”

“The craziest,” Carlos replied. Eleven months ago, he’d been rushing over to Lando’s house in the middle of the night to deal with the aftermath of Max’s assault, and now here they were in a fancy hotel in Sao Paulo. “How was your neck today?” Lando’s physical injuries had mostly healed, but he’d been left with intermittent neck pain. Sometimes it was a dull ache, other times it was so intense after a race that it made him puke. 

“ _ Sore _ . It doesn’t help that this is an anti-clockwise track. So much turning left. It feels like my head is trying to be ripped off the other way. Just when I was getting the hang of turning right…” he trailed off, smirking. 

Carlos turned around in Lando’s arms to face him square on. He gently slid his hands either side of Lando’s neck, cupping his jaw and supporting the weight of his head. “I’ll help.”

“Your hands are so warm,” Lando said quietly, closing his eyes. He felt like he could melt under Carlos’s touch; his head had never felt so light. He kept his arm around Carlos’s waist and barely noticed that he was pulling him closer.

Carlos dipped his head and placed a kiss on Lando’s lips. When Lando didn’t flinch, Carlos kissed him again, gently tilting Lando’s head upwards.

Lando smiled into the kiss, moving his hands up to Carlos’s shoulders, sliding his fingers into Carlos’s thick black hair. He kissed Carlos back and then hesitated, pulling away slightly. “ _ Stop _ .”

Carlos immediately broke away, keeping his hands on Lando’s neck but not gripping him anywhere near tightly. He looked down at Lando, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. “What’s wrong, my friend?”

“I’m sorry,” Lando said, opening his eyes and pulling away from Carlos completely. He took a small step backwards and then turned to the window, resting his forehead against the cool glass and staring back out at the city. 

“What are you apologising for?” Carlos asked, taking Lando’s hand in his and tracing his thumb over Lando’s knuckles. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“It is,” Lando replied, screwing his eyes shut. “But at the same time, it’s not.” He groaned and bumped his head against the window a couple of times before turning to face Carlos, still holding his hand. “I care about you so much and I get jealous every time I see you with that woman.”

“I’ll stop seeing her,” Carlos said immediately. “It’s not that serious anyway.” It was mostly just sex. Carlos craved intimacy and she was fun to be around. They had a laugh together and it meant Carlos didn’t have to go to bed alone.

Lando licked his lips, desperately searching for the right words to explain how he felt. “I don’t think I’m ready,” he said, his voice wavering. “I’ve worked so fucking  _ hard _ this year trying to put myself back together. I finally feel like I’m making some progress. I’m nearly happy with who I am, and I just… it wouldn’t be right, trying to be your boyfriend right now. You’re such a great person, Carlos, and you deserve someone who can give you more than what I can offer right now. I need some more time before I can let you, or anyone, near my heart, you know? I have to take care of myself and I know that probably sounds really horrible.”

“No, I understand,” Carlos replied, trying not to sound disappointed. He pulled Lando in for a cuddle and kissed the top of his head. 

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was leading you on,” Lando mumbled, resting his forehead on Carlos’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and breathed him in, sliding his arms around Carlos’s waist and cuddling him back. 

\---

The winter went slowly for Lando, every day dragging into the next in a blur of grey, english clouds mixed with hours on the simulator he’d set up in Carlos’s living room. Carlos’s offer of “stay a few days” turned into a few weeks and Lando struggled to tell if Carlos was affectionate because he was from southern Europe, or if he was affectionate because he loved him.

Lando hadn’t planned on spending the night in Carlos’s bed, it just sort of  _ happened _ . They’d been watching a movie on Carlos’s laptop and Carlos had fallen asleep with Lando’s arm around him. Lando decided he didn’t want to disturb Carlos so he just cuddled up against him and went to sleep too. He’d woken up the next morning to find Carlos was already in the kitchen making breakfast.

The next times Lando slept in Carlos’s bed were more deliberate and the first time they had sex, Lando cried afterwards. “Nobody has ever stopped in the middle of sex to check if I’m having fun or not,” he’d wept, feeling so safe with Carlos that he didn’t feel embarassed about being vulnerable around him. Carlos cuddled him closer and promised that he always wanted Lando to have fun.

The next time they tried to have sex, Lando felt uncomfortable and frustrated. Nothing they tried felt good and Lando had agreed when Carlos said he was over-thinking things. It was only when Lando laid back on the bed, his hands sifting through Carlos’s hair as Carlos knelt on the mattress between his legs giving him all the attention that Lando finally relaxed. He cried again afterwards; he’d never been the only one to come.

As the weeks passed, Lando cried less and gained confidence, including one instance in the shower which was a surprise to both of them when it happened. Lando had laughed afterwards, his knees sore from the shower tray, screwing his eyes shut and insisting Carlos help wipe his face clean before he went blind. “It feels so  _ warm _ .”

They’d spent most of Valentine’s Day in the airport waiting for a delayed flight to go down to Monaco to help George celebrate his birthday on the 15th of February. Lando had never been a fan of grand, romantic gestures. He bought Carlos a latte from Starbucks to show his appreciation. Carlos had returned the gesture by letting Lando have the window seat.

Winter testing showed that the car was fast but neither of them knew how fast it would be until they got to Australia for the first race. It was only when they locked out the front row in qualifying, two tenths faster than the Ferraris that they realised this year might be a little different to the previous two.

\---

Lando’s first win came at the Dutch Grand Prix. It was the team’s first one-two of the season following wins for Carlos in Australia and China. Lando hadn’t enjoyed the week all that much, being constantly surrounded by Dutch voices made him think of Max a lot, and he’d been struggling with pain in his neck. Despite hours of investigation and fine-tuning by the team, Lando still insisted that there was something wrong with either the belts, his HANS device, or his helmet.

After the race finished, Lando was operating on auto-pilot. He knew he should have been ecstatic for his first win, but in reality he didn’t feel much. It had been a hard-fought victory; he’d had to pass both Ferraris on track after the pit stops and when his tyres dropped off towards the end of the race, his lead shrunk down to less than two seconds by the time the chequered flag dropped. He’d managed to smile on the podium and spray champagne, and he’d held his head high whilst doing all the media work that was required, successfully dodging the questions he received about how it felt to take his first win in Verstappen territory.

Carlos found Lando on the floor of his hotel room later that night, on his hands and knees, still reeking of expensive champagne even though he’d showered twice. Carlos dropped his bag and rushed to Lando’s side, placing a hand on Lando’s back and crouching down, trying to see his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t breathe,” Lando choked out. He didn’t know how long his panic attack had been going on but his lips were tingling and he felt cold. His panic attack had hit him hard after a stressful week and the biggest day of his racing career so far. “Carlos, help me.”

“I’m here,” Carlos said reassuringly. “You’re safe here, Lando. You’re so safe. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” He rubbed circles between Lando’s shoulder blades, not knowing what else to do. Lando had had panic attacks before but never like this. Previous times, Lando would pace up and down, complaining that he felt dizzy, only feeling better when Carlos had convinced him to sit still.

“Don’t touch me!” Lando squeaked, scrambling away from Carlos. He grabbed at the edge of the bed and pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly and feeling unsteady. “Fuck,  _ Carlos _ .”

Frustrated that Lando wanted his help but wouldn’t let him close, Carlos fished his phone out of his pocket and swiped at it. “I’m going to call Jon,” he said, finding the number for Lando’s physio and pressing the call button.

Lando staggered across the room and sat down on the sofa, dragging his hands through his long, wavy hair. He screwed his eyes shut and dragged his hands down over his neck, squeezing it slightly. “Don’t let me die,” he stuttered, his hyperventilating making him feel dizzy.

“I won’t, I promise,” Carlos said, feeling as helpless as he had the night he’d had to drive to Lando’s apartment to deal with the aftermath of Max’s assault. He answered the knock at the door and showed Jon to where Lando was on the sofa.

“Hey Lando,” Jon said warmly, kneeling down on the floor in front of Lando. “How are you doing?”

“I can’t breathe,” Lando replied, making no effort to move. “My neck’s fucking killing me.”

“What sort of pain is it?” 

“The hurting kind!” Lando snapped, fidgeting on the sofa. He leant forward and put his hands on Jon’s shoulders. “Please, I feel like I’m dying. I don’t want to die.”

Jon glanced across at Carlos and saw that he had tears in his eyes. “Mate, you should go,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of Lando.” He watched Carlos leave the room wordlessly and then turned his attention back to Lando. “Come on, Lando, you’re going to be alright. I’m not going to let you die. We just need to get your breathing back under control, yeah? Look at me.”

\---

Lando won again at the British Grand Prix, whereas Carlos crashed into George whilst trying to lap him. The two of them stood behind the barriers waiting for scooters to arrive to return them to the paddock and watched as the marshals recovered their broken cars.

“What the hell was that?” George asked, frustrated to be taken out of his home race by someone who was fifteen places higher up than him in the result.

“I don’t know,” Carlos replied angrily. He had no defence. He’d seen George, he knew there was space, but still he’d hit his friend. “I fucked up my braking.”

“Yeah, it looks like it,” George said. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around Carlos, hugging him tight. Part of him was glad to not have to finish the race; his car had been frustrating him all weekend and he was ready to leave and go to the next race instead.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos apologised, cuddling George back before pulling away. “My head is all over the place lately.”

“You need to get it together again then,” George replied, sounding caring rather than callous. “Otherwise next time you crash, you might take out someone that matters.”

\---

“Do you have any plans for the summer break?” Lando asked, stretching out in his lounger on the balcony to Carlos’s hotel room. They had a fantastic view of the river in Budapest, it was one of Carlos’s favourite cities that they travelled to. He hadn’t enjoyed this week though, having crashed out of the race again. He was losing too many points in the championship to Lando and the media were tearing him to shreds. 

“No,” Carlos replied, gritting his teeth slightly. He fidgeted in his own lounger, tucking his knees to his chest. “I was hoping you might make some for us.”

“Oh.” Lando chewed his lip, staring out at the river. “What are we doing, Carlos?” 

“I don’t know,” Carlos replied honestly, settling his chin on his knees. “I don’t know what this is anymore. There was a time I thought I was your boyfriend, but now I’m not sure. We’re like friends who fuck each other sometimes, and that’s it. Sometimes you’re all over me, and other times you’re really cold.”

“This year has been really intense,” Lando said distantly. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes before Lando turned on his lounger to face Carlos. “Do I make you happy?”

Carlos shrugged, blinking away the few tears that were threatening the corners of his eyes. “I really want to say ‘yes’, but…” he trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence. “I don’t know where I am with you. I feel like you’re still holding back.”

Lando picked at the hem of his hoodie, searching for words to use that wouldn’t upset Carlos. The last thing he wanted was for Carlos to be sad, but all Lando could think about was just how sad he was making Carlos. It felt like they didn’t laugh as much as they used to. “I  _ am  _ holding back,” he said openly. “I think we should stop trying to have a relationship. I don’t think it’s going to work out, and it’s not fair on you, Carlos. You deserve someone who can be fully with you, and I am not that person.”

“What about  _ you _ ?” Carlos asked. “What do  _ you  _ want?”

Lando shrugged in response, saying nothing for a while. “I look at George and Alex, and I think, wow, they’re going to be together forever. You can just tell it. They’re going to get married and they’re going to be old men together. When I look at us, I don’t know if I see that. I can’t even see my life past the end of this season.”

“I want to be the person who makes you happy,” Carlos said, his voice wavering.

“I don’t think you can be,” Lando replied, nervously wringing his hands together. “It’s up to me to make myself happy, but… I’m still not over what happened with Max. I don’t know if I was using you as a distraction, or to try and fill a hole, but now that I think about it, it feels so fucking unfair on you. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve definitely had a lot of fun, and I still want to be your friend because your friendship is the most special thing I think I’ve had in my life, like,  _ ever _ , but we should stop having sex. It’s making things too complicated.”

Carlos sighed, dragging his hands through his hair and pulling it slightly before rubbing his face and wrapping his arms back around his legs. “I can’t keep being your punching bag,” he said softly. “If we’re stopping this, whatever  _ this _ is, then it has to completely stop. You can’t turn up at my hotel room in the middle of the night anymore.”

“I know you it’s not fun for you when I have a panic attack.”

“Not fun?!” Carlos retorted, snapping his head up to glare at Lando. “Not fun doesn’t even come close to describing how I feel. I hold you in my arms and you  _ beg  _ me to not let you die, and all I can see is you in the hospital after Max raped you, and it breaks my heart every time, Lando. It breaks my heart to see you hurting, and knowing that I can’t do anything to fix it.”

Carlos’s words hit Lando like a brick to his chest. His breath caught in his throat and he reached out, putting his hand on Carlos’s arm, realising that he’d been taking a lot more from their relationship than he’d given. “Am I the reason you keep crashing?” he asked tentatively.

Carlos glanced down at Lando’s hand but didn’t move. “Partly.”

“Then we’ve got to stop this,” Lando said, pulling away. “You could still be champion this year. I cannot be the reason that you throw that away. You cannot waste your talent and your career on someone like me. Jesus, Carlos, why didn’t you tell me how much this is destroying you?”

“I don’t know,” Carlos mumbled.

“It stops today,” Lando said, determined. “I’ll stop turning up at your door in the middle of the night. I’ll give you all the space you need to get your head back together so you can get back into this championship. We have to work together if we want to beat Charles, but after that, I hope we get to have a good fight between us. You make me want to drive better. I want to push you the same way.”

Carlos sighed and hid his face against his arms. He didn’t want Lando to go, but he knew Lando was right. He tensed up when he felt Lando’s arms around him, screwing his eyes shut when he felt Lando’s kisses on top of his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not sure if Lando would hear him or not.

“You don’t need to apologise,” Lando said, smiling against Carlos’s hair before pulling away completely. “You’re, like, the  _ best  _ man I’ve ever met. I’m sorry I can’t offer you more. I hope you have a good summer break. I hope you get to rest. I’ll see you again in Belgium, and I expect to have to put up a fight, okay? Promise me that, at least. Promise me you’ll bring a fight.”

Carlos nodded, still not lifting his face from his arms. He stayed in that position for a long time after Lando left his hotel room.

\---

Lando hated the Belgian race. He’d brought his parents out for the weekend; his Mother always enjoyed an opportunity to return to her home country. Lando had qualified in third behind Charles and Carlos and on lap 38 of the race, his engine blew. Grey smoke billowed out the back of his car as he pulled to one side just before the last corner and it was a sad, albeit short, walk back to the paddock where his Mother tried her best to cheer him up.

Lando and Carlos hadn’t spoken over the summer break and when they met up again in Belgium, Carlos’s only explanation for what he got up to was “I went back to Spain.” Carlos was distant, but he was still friendly. He still made jokes in their media sessions and he still said nice things about Lando in front of their sponsors. Lando made sure not to do anything  _ too  _ friendly, keeping his actions on the right side of professional.

It was only when Lando was curled up in bed after the Belgian race that he got a text from Carlos. “Sorry your car died xx”

“You’re 18 points closer,” Lando texted back. “Only 5 more and then you’ve caught me.”

The next race in Italy was also a disaster for Lando. He qualified on pole (with Charles second and Carlos third) and led much of the race. His tyres started to go off near the end and Charles caught him with ease. Lando tried his best to defend but knew that Charles would get past eventually, probably with the help of DRS. Charles didn’t want to wait for DRS on the straight though and tried to overtake Lando into a corner. Lando knew the crash was Charles’s fault but Charles was livid in the post-race interviews and left the blame squarely with Lando.  _ “He’s crazy. He’ll get us both killed if he keeps driving like that.” _

Lando was sulking when he got back to his hotel room. He didn’t want to speak to anyone, he just wanted to go back to England. His phone vibrated with a text from Carlos. “Thanks for taking Charles out so I could win. Those 25 points really helped xx”

Lando replied to Carlos’s text with a crying face emoji.

“I’m ready for the fight whenever you are.”

Lando screwed his face up and laughed at Carlos’s text, putting his phone on charge and curling up to sleep. He was glad that they could still joke together, even if they couldn’t be in bed together where they could joke with each other in person. 

By the time they got to Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season, Lando was mathematically out of the championship, and Carlos was ten points behind Charles. If Carlos won the race, Charles would have to finish no worse than second if he wanted to win the championship outright. If Charles finished third, then he’d win the title on the number of wins.

Lando bumped into Carlos on the way out of the toilet before they got in the cars for the race. He hugged Carlos for the first time in several months and kissed his cheek. “Good luck today. If I can, I’ll try to help you out there.”

“Like you did in Italy?” Carlos joked.

“That was his fucking fault!” Lando screeched, still bitter about being taken out by Charles.

“Calm down, my friend,” Carlos laughed, putting his hands on Lando’s shoulders. “I understand what you’re saying to me. I appreciate it.”

“I’ll try my best for you,” Lando said, sighing when Jon called him from down the corridor. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got to go.”

Carlos started the race from pole and was first into turn one. Charles almost got alongside him from second on the grid but Carlos cut him off and kept the lead of the race. Lando slotted into position behind Charles where he stayed for most of the race.

Lando knew that if he stayed third, it’d be a great finish for him to end the season. He also knew that if he didn’t try to overtake Charles, then Charles would finish second and win the championship. “Who has the fastest lap point?” he asked as he continued pounding round the track, trying to reel himself closer to Charles.

“Carlos,” came the response from his engineer. “1:39.1. We don’t need to beat that.”

“Fuck,” Lando muttered to himself. With the extra point, Carlos would now finish the championship with only one point fewer than Charles. He knew the commentators would be loving that, the closest championship finish in years. “I want more power!”

“Negative, we need to bring the car home.”

“Why?” Lando snapped. “If I finish third or I go bang, what difference does it make? I can go faster than this, I know it. My tyres are great. Please give me more power.”

“Stand by.”

Lando waited for the instruction to come back from his engineer and when he was given authorisation to put the car in its maximum power qualifying ‘party’ mode, he turned the dials on his wheel and concentrated on hunting Charles down. It took a few laps to get onto the back of him and then a couple more to get past. With the help of DRS, Lando out-braked Charles at the bottom of the back straight and just about managed to keep his car inside the track limits as he headed towards the marina, despite Charles’s cry on the radio of  _ “he left the track!” _

With two laps to go, it was Charles’s turn to have DRS on Lando. Lando drove the most defensive two laps of his entire career, making his McLaren as wide as it could be and he drove hard; there’d be no sneaking past or bullying past for Charles in the way that Lando had lost out to other drivers before. Lando crossed the line to finish the race 0.6 seconds in front.

“Yes, Lando!” his engineer shouted down the radio. “Fantastic job, mate! That’s P2.”

Lando hesitated, trying to work out the maths in his head. If Carlos won the race then he got 25 points, and Charles finished third then he got 15 points, and Carlos started the race ten points behind Charles, which would mean that maybe they’d be equal on points, but Charles would still win the championship because he had more wins, even though Carlos had just added another one to his total. But if Carlos had the fastest lap point then he would have 26 points, not 25 points, which would mean he’d finish 1 point in front of Charles- Lando gave up on the maths and asked his engineer for help. “Has Carlos won or not?”

“He’s won. You really scared us on that last lap, Lando. You set your fastest lap of the race, three thousandths behind Carlos. If you’d have braked any later at Turn 17 then you would have taken that point and Carlos would have lost.”

“I didn’t know where I was braking!” Lando laughed. “I was trying so hard to keep that Ferrari behind me! I am  _ shaking _ !”

The two orange McLarens and the red Ferrari pulled up on the grid at the end of the race and did doughnuts. Lando tried his best to get his tyres to melt and his gearbox to explode but stopped when he felt dizzy. He climbed out of his car into a plume of light grey smoke and fell to his knees, disorientated. He smiled brightly when a flash of blue and orange appeared in the smoke and rugby tackled him into a hug.

“Carlos!” Lando screamed through his visor, letting Carlos pull him to his feet. He threw his arms around Carlos and squeezed him tight, lifting him up off the ground. “Did I do okay?”

“The best, my friend,” Carlos replied, slapping Lando’s helmet before pulling away to go and find Charles. He knew Charles would be devastated but he wanted to congratulate him on putting up one hell of a fight.

\---

“Lando, wait!” Carlos rushed after Lando down the corridor in the McLaren Technology Centre and pulled Lando into a meeting room, closing the blinds and locking the door. He turned back to face Lando who’d hopped up and was sitting on the table, peering back at him. “When will I see you next?”

Lando shrugged, swinging his legs lightly. “I’m going back to my parents’ for Christmas, but I’ll be back up here in January. We could meet up.”

Carlos crossed the room and pressed his hands into the table either side of Lando’s legs. He bowed his head, his hair dangerously close to tickling Lando’s shirt. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Lando said, quickly kissing the top of Carlos’s head. He put his hands on Carlos’s shoulders gently pushed him away, meeting Carlos’s gaze. “But our relationship is nearly back where it should be, isn’t it? So let’s make a friendship date. I’ll bring food to your house and we can play FIFA all afternoon, and then we’ll go out for dinner and then back to our own beds at night.”

“I’d really like that,” Carlos said, smiling up at Lando. “This year was so much pressure. I just want to do simple, stupid stuff.”

“Good job you’ve got a simple, stupid friend to do these things with,” Lando laughed. “When do you fly back to Spain?”

“Tonight.”

“I didn’t get you a Christmas present,” Lando said, clambering off the table. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I didn’t get you one either,” Carlos laughed.

Lando unlocked the door and then turned back to Carlos, rushing over to him and cuddling him tight. “Feliz Navidad, Carlos.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Carlos replied, hugging Lando for the longest time before finally letting him go. Carlos had to go home and pack and Lando no doubt had some time planned in the simulator. 

\---

Carlos checked his watch and swore at the time. He’d already been running late when he’d started packing and now he was really late and he couldn’t find his passport. He had underwear, socks, and clothes but no passport. He wasn’t sure if he could use a wikipedia article as proof of identity for travelling, even if it did now say World Champion on it.

He considered ignoring his doorbell when it rang the first time, but when it rang again thirty seconds later, Carlos ripped the door open, prepared to shout at the politician or carol singers or charity worker who had dared to interrupt his packing. His Christmas spirit was well and truly gone; all he wanted was to be on a plane home with his noise-cancelling headphones and no contact with another human.

“Lando, what are you doing here?” Carlos frowned. He frowned more when he could see that Lando had been crying, his eyes red and swollen. “No, Lando, not now,  _ please _ . I’m already late and I’ve lost my fucking passport.”

Lando followed Carlos into his living room, trying to get Carlos’s attention but lost for things to say. He reached for Carlos’s hand but Carlos shrugged him off, still muttering about his passport.

Carlos left Lando in the living room and stepped into the kitchen, maybe his passport would be in there. He eventually found it on top of the fridge, cursing at himself because that was a stupid place to have put it. Heading back to the living room, Carlos stuffed his passport into his bag and looked up at Lando. “You have to go.”

“Carlos,  _ please _ ,” Lando whimpered, grabbing at Carlos’s hands again. “Please.”

“No, I get it, I really do,” Carlos said, trying his best to sound sympathetic. “You don’t want me to go. I have to, though. I have to go home and see my family. I’ll be back in January and we can hang out then. A friend date, remember? You and me and an afternoon of FIFA.”

Lando shook his head, successfully grabbing Carlos’s hands at the third attempt. He squeezed them tight and pulled Carlos closer. “It’s Max,” he choked out, struggling to see Carlos clearly through the tears in his eyes. “He got into a fight in prison. Carlos, fuck, he’s _dead_.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear about your reactions. <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Who Would Want To Hurt Lando?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21824134) by [ZDcookie_996](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZDcookie_996/pseuds/ZDcookie_996)


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